


not fair to her

by lydtograce



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Closeted Character, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydtograce/pseuds/lydtograce
Summary: jumin always ends their encounters with a statement claiming it to be their last meeting; by now, zen knows just how false a claim that is.





	

Jumin's buttoning up his shirt when Zen awakens; crimson gaze narrowed in a pensive stare as the taller male's digits moved to smooth out his white cotton sleeves. He's always prettier like this, Zen had discovered; when he's unaware of the gaze trained upon him. His features seem softer - welcoming - until he spins to match Zen's level gaze and the lines around his eyes harden. 

He's still pretty, despite the hard expression his visage now holds. Still pretty, despite the frown his lips would show. Despite the rough "This is the last time" he breathes out, in the rough tone that Zen has grown accustomed to hearing in the mornings.

Those words, as well; Zen is used to Jumin's denial by now. Used to his promises that this is the final time - that this is it for them. Zen's lips would part, as he attempted a counter argument - only for Jumin to state that "It's not fair to her."

And it wasn't, Zen knew that. It wasn't fair for her to be strung along like this. For her to fawn over Jumin in the daylight whilst her supposed lover's lips pressed against anothers in the nightlight. Zen breathed out a heavy sigh; head bowed, "You've been saying that for weeks, now. At this point, why bother? We both know that come tonight you'll be back here. And by tomorrow morning you'll be saying it's not fair to her all over again." It was a never ending cycle, honestly; Zen knew it and so did Jumin - no matter how much the latter denied it. 

He was denying it right now, actually; gaze turned from Zen's visage and fiercely drawn against the mirror beside the door. Zen would stand, hand moving to cover the reflection Jumin stared into so hard; drawing the other male's dark gaze to partner with Zen's own. "You can't keep the promises you make. So why bother?"

And then Jumin's cold body is pressed against his, and Zen isn't sure what to do other than melt into the warm kiss pressed against his chapped lips (Saeyoung brought him lip balm once; he lost it within minutes). Jumin's hands are moving through long white strands of hair, as is usual; tugging softly and spontaneous intervals to withdraw a light moan from Zen's parted lips. 

Drawing away for a moment; chest rising and falling quickly in an attempt to catch his stolen breath, Zen's fingers would find their way to Jumin's top button - unfastening such an arched brow; inquistive expression drawing a short laugh from Jumin's lips. 

"Something confusing you?" Jumin questioned with a grin, thumb etching invisible lines along Zen's sharp cheekbone; fingers rest beneath his jaw line. In response to such questioning, Zen released a soft stream of laughter, fingers falling to unbutton the remainder of the clasps. "You. You confuse me." 

What did he want? Why were his ideals so jumbled and helplessly screwed up? Zen didn't believe he'd ever receive a straight answer when it came to that line of inquiry. 

And he didn't. Instead he received harsh kisses, delicate fingers moving to draw a shirt over his head, lips and teeth pressed against the jaunt line of his collar bone.

Jumin was gone by the next time Zen awoke; his side of the bed still holding his faint scent, a dull recollection of warmth from where his form had imprint upon the mattress. He'd be with her, Zen knew, fingers moving to brush aside her brunette fringe to press a gentle kiss to her pale forehead. 

But hey, at least Zen wouldn't be alone in his pining - if the way Saeyoung looked at her announced anything in regards to his emotions. He drew slight comfort from that; from the knowledge that he wasn't alone.

Inhaling harshly, so as to preserve Jumin's signature scent, Zen's eyes would squeeze shut; fingers tightly clutching a pillow to his chest. 

He'd be back tonight, Zen knew. And somehow that'd make him feel worse.


End file.
